


Stuck

by laugh_a_latte



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Coming Out, Fluff and Angst, Hair Braiding, Trans Jeremy Heere, Trans Michael Mell, trans boy Michael, trans girl jeremy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:28:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25943599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laugh_a_latte/pseuds/laugh_a_latte
Summary: Best friends can tell each other anything. Can't they?
Comments: 10
Kudos: 29





	Stuck

**Author's Note:**

> This whole fic was inspired by two pieces of art by my bestie Al (@pomegrantaire), which were in turn inspired by headcannons by antpelts on tumblr! The masterpieces and due credit will be posted at the end of the fic!

“You need a haircut, dude.”

Michael adjusts his position lying on the floor in front of Jeremy’s bed, kicking his feet up onto it. He cradles his arms under his head, and nudges Jeremy with his toe. Jeremy’s face is zombie-like in concentration.

But Michael watches those words register with Jeremy’s zombie face, and then that concentration breaks.

His eyes slide away from the video game, and they meet Michael’s. And oh, Michael didn’t mean to do that. To make Jeremy’s face have that weird look.

Michael blinks, wondering what he said this time, to get that look.

“Yeah, well you’re not one for having socially acceptable hair either, Michelle.”

That name reverberates in his skull. _Michelle._

And maybe.

Michael swallows.

Maybe this is it.

This is the perfect moment, he thinks.

It would be so easy. The words are right on his lips. _Jeremy, I’m trans._

But the breath he needs to say those words isn’t with him, and those three easy words are the most difficult in the world.

Michael’s eyes slip away, back to Jeremy’s ceiling.

“I think it’s ‘ _societally_ acceptable.’ Uh, the correct use of that phrase.”

And Mariana doesn’t like how Michelle’s voice just went all flat like that.

She lets her focus slip from her game again, trying to catch Michelle’s eye, but Michelle’s eyes are glued to the ceiling.

And she wishes she could say it.

It shouldn’t be this hard.

Michelle’s her best friend of almost twelve years. That’s a long time, and it shouldn’t matter at this point in their friendship.

But almost twelve years _is_ a long time.

That’s almost twelve years of Jeremy and Michelle. They’re established. They’re cool. They’re a two-player game.

 _Mar_ and Michelle aren’t.

So it does matter.

And Mariana lets her eyes slip away.

~~~~~

“Girl, you have _got_ to tell her.”

Jenna’s touch is so soft on Mariana's hair. Mariana lets her eyes flutter closed.

“I-I know, I know,” Mariana tugs her cardigan closed, trying to focus on the feeling of Jenna pulling her hair slowly into braids, now that it’s finally long enough. “But, I mean. I don’t know how to explain it. It’s just so weird.”

Jenna tugs another strand toward her.

“Try me.”

Mariana sighs, long and loud.

“Like. Well,” she lets her eyes open, and they find one of Jenna’s socks, forgotten on her bedroom floor. Mariana focuses on that. “Like I’ve known Michelle my whole life. She knows me as-as. As _Jeremy._ It’s like. She already has this, like. Perception of me?”

“Yeah?”

“But like, a long-term perception thing? Like, I’d only known you a couple months, uh. When I told you. And so it was easier to tell you, because you didn’t have this whole, like. Established image of me.”

Mariana blinks at the sock. Jenna’s hands fall away.

“Like, wouldn’t that change everything? Wouldn’t, like. It— _everything_ —be different after I told her?” Mariana swallows, pulling her legs to her chest, trying to stop her heart from beating so much. “I-I don’t want _different_ , Jenna. I like how we are. I don’t want her to think of me as any different. God. I don’t want things to keep changing, Jenna.”

“Hey, now,” Jenna moves to Mariana's side, throwing an arm around her shoulder and pulling her close.

“I don’t want different, Jenna. I just,” Mariana sighs. “I don’t want to keep this secret from her, either. I just feel so . . ." Mariana shakes her head, trying to find the word, "Stuck."

“Girl,” Jenna says, rubbing her hand up and down Mariana's back. “I bet when you tell her, you’ll feel so much better.”

“I don’t—”

“I mean, do you _really_ believe Michelle’s the type to treat you any different? To look at you any different, because of that?”

“I mean,” Mariana tilts her head back and forth, because Jenna’s, well. “I don’t know.”

“Hmm,” Jenna moves Mariana's hair out of her face, catching her eye. “I think you do.”

Because Jenna’s right.

Jenna’s eyes sparkle at her.

Jenna’s always right.

“I mean Michelle’s _basically_ a boy anyways, Mar,” And that sparkle turns mischievous, and Mariana recognizes this as Gossip Jenna. “Maybe she’s also, well. _Y’know._ ”

But Mariana just laughs at her, shoving her arm away.

She knows that’s just Gossip Jenna’s brain imagining more Gossip Material. There’s no way Michelle could be . . . Well.

Because if she was, Michelle would have told her.

~~~~~

Michael is watching a fly float upside down in his day-old melted slushie when Jeremy opens the passenger door, letting in all that dying summer humidity and heat.

“Gross. Shut the door.”

“Sev-Elev?”

Michael considers. He’s not sure if he feels like a slushie right now, after watching this fly corpse float in yesterday’s melted slushie juice for the last five minutes.

But instead of telling Jeremy all that, he just says, “Yup.”

Because they always go to Seven Eleven on Fridays. It’s part of their routine. It’s like their brand.

Michael side-eyes Jeremy as he starts the car.

Their routine. Their brand.

_Michelle and Jeremy._

Michael swallows, pulling his eyes away.

He doesn’t want to be the one to mess that up.

Michael backs out of his spot, finding his way out of the parking lot.

He knows Jeremy.

He knows Jeremy hates change. He knows Jeremy likes routine.

In Jeremy’s perfect world, everything would stay exactly the same always.

Hence, why Michael is driving to Seven Eleven on a Friday afternoon, even though he’d rather take the time to throw that slushie cup away, and maybe clean the rest of his car.

But he knows he’d never do that, either.

Michael _would_ do anything for Jeremy, though.

Michael would do anything to stop the world from changing, so Jeremy wouldn’t have to change with it.

Yeah.

Whether it’s going to Seven Eleven every Friday.

Whether it’s keeping his car messy, so Jeremy can tease him about it every morning.

Whether it’s not telling him that he’s transgender.

Michael flips on his blinker, turning into Seven Eleven, smiling back at Jeremy as Jeremy rambles on and on about his classes.

Just like every Friday afternoon.

And something in Michael’s brain is telling him that maybe, Jeremy’s not the only one scared of change.

~~~~~

Later that night, Michael finds his back killing him.

He thinks he needs a new chest binder, but damn it if he’ll be able to find the money for one.

He glances at Jeremy, who’s been out like a light for the past half hour, his slushie forgotten about on Michael’s dresser, before pausing the game. The room goes silent.

He gets off his bed, trying to make sure it doesn’t squeak, and slowly makes his way out of the basement and up the stairs to the bathroom, so he can wrestle out of this thing without worrying about waking Jeremy up.

Or without Jeremy seeing.

Michael hits the wall blindy until the light flashes on. He groans, rubbing at his eyes, wondering what time it is, or when he got so tired. Squares the shape of his TV pop up in his vision, and he rubs harder to get those to disappear.

Then, he pulls off his hoodie and shirt, discarding them on the floor, and takes his glasses off so he doesn’t break them.

He may or may not have done that. Once or twice.

And even though his back is killing him, even though his body and lungs are begging him to take it off already, Michael can’t help but steal a few more moments to look in the mirror and imagine what it would be like to not have to wear this thing.

He runs a hand over the smooth fabric.

He’s so happy he has it, because it does make him feel so much better when it’s on.

But when it’s off?

Michael drops his hand.

He just can’t help but wish.

The click of the door opening startles Michael, and he has no time to even try to cover up before the door is wide open, and Jeremy is standing there.

"Oh!"

_Shit._

“Hey,” Michael says, scrambling to at least find his hoodie or shirt or _something_ to cover up, but he knows it’s too late. He knows the damage is done.

Of all the nights to forget to lock the door.

“Hey . . .” Jeremy says, finally. His eyes go wide, then he’s looking away to the floor.

And Michael is trying to think of something, anything, to cover this up, but of course he had to go and buy something super obvious because it _had_ to be the one that worked the best. And he knows it doesn’t exactly look like a tank top, and it definitely doesn’t look like a bra, and there is absolutely nothing Michael can think of to say, to explain.

“Uh, Jeremy?” Michael pulls his hoodie on, crossing his arms over his chest, backing into the wall across Jeremy.

But Jeremy doesn’t look up, so Michael looks away.

He blinks at the tile on the floor, frozen.

And the world outside of this bathroom disappears, along with every emotion Michael can imagine.

Because he knows this is it. It has to be. He barely even has a choice.

But he’s not nervous, or scared, or anything, really.

No, the only thing he can feel is the blood rushing through his ears.

So he doesn’t even hear the words, when he says them.

“Jeremy, I’m trans.”

And even though he barely hears them, he can feel them. Heavy, in his mouth. Not light, or freeing, like he thought they might feel like, and Michael doesn’t know what to do.

And Jeremy’s not saying anything back. He just keeps looking at the floor.

And Michael’s heart drops, because maybe this does mess everything up. Even more than he thought it would.

But now that he’s said it, he can’t take it back, and it’s too late.

“I’m sorry, I mean. I didn’t want to tell you, because I know you don’t like things to change, right? Like, like,” Michael swallows, trying not to ramble, but he knows it’s too late, “I know we’ve always been _Jeremy and Michelle_. I know it’s been like that forever. And I just.” If he stops talking, he thinks he might start crying.

“I wanted things to keep being awesome, like they’ve been? And I was _so_ scared I’d change that, that I’d fuck it all up. I didn’t want to change that. I—” Michael swallows. “I didn’t want things to change, and I’m sorry—”

“Michelle?”

Michael shakes his head. He can’t look away from the tile.

“I didn’t want anything to change, and I’m just really, _really_ sorry, I—”

“Michelle, _stop,_ ” Jeremy insists, and Michael stops, because he hears Jeremy’s crying.

But, when Michael finally looks up, he sees Jeremy’s not just crying. He’s also smiling.

Because Mariana can’t believe this. Well, she _can._ Kind of. Because she couldn't stop thinking about it after Jenna of course had to say something, and besides, fuck Jenna for always being so right, because of _course_ she had to be right. So maybe Mariana _can_ totally believe it.

But she just can’t believe it.

It’s just so amazing.

Because now, she won’t have to explain a thing. Not a thing.

“I’m trans, too.”

And the words feel so light and freeing in her mouth. Not at all heavy, like she thought they would.

She catches Michelle’s eyes. Her mouth is stuck open, frozen mid-ramble.

“I—What?”

“I’m trans, too,” Mariana repeats, nodding, laughing despite herself. “I was—” Mariana exhales, trying to let every bad feeling in the world go away as she does. “I was so scared to tell you.”

Mariana watches Michelle’s eyes blink and blink. Then widen. And then the stupidest smile breaks out on her face.

“ _What!_ ” She throws her hands over her face, and when she pulls them away a second later to look at Mariana, her eyes are wet. “Jeremy, no _way,_ that’s just!” She laughs. “That’s _awesome!_ ”

Mariana keeps nodding.

But then she pauses, because she realizes now she gets to say words she’s always wanted to say to Michelle.

“Can . . . Can you call me Mariana? Or like, Mar for short?”

“Mariana,” Michelle tries out the name. “Mar! I love it. Uh,” and then Michelle, looks down, her cheeks going red. “Can you call me, um. Can you call me Michael?”

“Michael.” Mariana wipes the tears off her face. “Nice.”

And then Michael looks back up, smirking in this way only Michael could. “He/him, by the way. And you, I’m assuming . . .?”

“She/her,” Mariana confirms, feeling the last weight lift from her shoulders.

“Awesome. _Awesome,_ ” Michael says.

And Mariana can’t look away from Michael, wondering how she got so lucky. To have a best friend like him.

Wait.

This makes them . . .

“This makes us Mar and Michael, you know,” Michael says, grinning at the same time Mariana does, waggling his eyebrows.

Mariana just laughs.

“Now that’s much better,” she says. “I love that.”

“Yeah,” Michael nods. “Me too. God,” he covers his face again, like he can’t believe what’s happening. “This is just awesome. Just. Awesome.”

“You need to find a new word,” Mariana laughs. “But, it really is,” Mariana agrees, because there just isn’t any other word for it.

“It really is.”

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> SHOUT OUT TO AL FOR BEING AN AWE INSPIRING ARTIST!!! And shout out to you for reading! If y'all like it, there is a very good chance I'm gonna continue this with more chapters. So to be continued?
> 
> Miah Heere headcannons by antpelts on Tumblr! https://antpelts.tumblr.com/post/624642389338914817/please-tell-us-more-about-miah-i-lvoe-her
> 
> ALSO Jeremy/Miah and Jenna friendship headcannon by Milo!: https://unproduciblesmackdown.tumblr.com/post/625263592794652673/suddenly-almost-weeping-here-lmfao-cuz-i-was-like
> 
> Thank you!


End file.
